“Napkin” the Pine-Cone-Sized Moth- A Story of Karma

On my third day in Nepal, I woke up to quite a surprise—a giant moth the size of a pine-cone was perched on the curtain near the door. It looked like an eggplant with wings. I am still not entirely convinced that it was a moth…

At dinner, Caitlin and I joked about the “moth.” We decided to give it a name. I flipped through my Nepali phrase book and selected one of the only words I could pronounce— rumahl; it means napkin.

Earlier that day I decided to put up a mosquito net around my bed due to my penny-sized ailments. There was only one problem—there was nothing to hang the net from. I had tried to put the net up the past two days and had failed. Due to my lack of ingenuity I decided to seek assistance—after all, it shouldn't take more than two Fulbright grantees to put up a mosquito net, right? Alanna came to my rescue. We systematically wove a clothesline across the room and secured the net with clothespins. We succeeded. I was delighted. No more bug bites for me.

Now it was evening, and we returned to our apartment after dinner. I went into the living room and ended up talking to Alanna and Elsie until 10:00 pm. We were really proud of ourselves for staying up so late—typically, we went to bed around 8:00 pm (if we could stay up that late) and many of us would wake up around 3 or 4 am— Oh, jet lag. Finally, I decided it was time for me to go to bed. We had training in the morning, and I needed to be prepared.

I was changing into my pajamas when I unexpectedly heard something—a strange flapping sound. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Napkin came zooming through the darkness and HIT ME IN THE FACE. Oh my gosh! I thought, this is my karma for calling a giant flying pine-cone “napkin.” I was terrified. Because Lisa was sleeping, I contained myself from screaming. I had a mosquito net, I would be safe from “Napkin” the giant “moth” right? I climbed into the net and tried to go to sleep….

Napkin would not stop fluttering its wings. The strange noise woke Lisa up. As Napkin banged itself into the walls searching for a light source, I told Lisa about how I had been hit in the face by the mysterious creature. Alanna soon came into our room wondering what was going on. Shortly after her arrival, Napkin disappeared somewhere. Everything was silent for a few minutes, and Alanna left. Lisa and I thought we could go to bed. WRONG. Almost immediately after Alanna left, Napkin returned. It violently hurled itself at the walls. Napkin decided to pay Lisa a visit in her bed. She hid under her blanket, knowing that she should not be afraid. Poor Lisa. Then, Napkin noticed a light fixture on the side of the wall. It flew towards the empty light fixture. Suddenly, Napkin was stuck inside!

One minute past….no sign of Napkin

Two minutes past…no sign of Napkin

Three minutes past…no sign of Napkin

After about five minutes we thought Napkin was dead.

Until it came thrashing out of the light fixture straight towards my bed. Thankfully I have a mosquito net, I thought as Napkin pounded at the sides of my net. Alanna heard my cries of distress and promptly returned. Right when she came back, Napkin mysteriously disappeared again.

One minute past….no sign of Napkin

Two minutes past…no sign of Napkin

Three minutes past…no sign of Napkin

After about five minutes we thought Napkin was dead.

First I thought it was just the blanket rubbing against me. Then I felt the soft tickling touch of thin twig-like legs crawling up my body. Napkin was back.

To this day, I am yet to understand how Napkin managed to get inside my mosquito net that night. After some initial shrieks of terror and deep breaths, I managed to remove myself from my bed. Despite my immense discomfort, Napkin’s arrival inside my mosquito net was ultimately a good thing, because it ended up saving its life. Brave Alanna got an empty pitcher and captured Napkin inside, releasing it out into nature on the balcony. That was the last I saw of Napkin, the eggplant shaped flying thing. I have learned an important lesson from this ordeal, don’t name flying creatures that resemble pine-cones after the easiest word to pronounce in the Nepali dictionary, they will find you and make you pay. 

Rumahl a.k.a "Napkin"
 Photographed in real life size. 

Kurta Shopping for Foreign Identity

We walk through busy streets meandering across the city. Small square doorless shops line the roads. Merchants gaze out from their shops waiting for customers. People walking alongside the road greet us with a friendly “Namaste,” I embrace the divine in you. Respect and understanding feels so naturally genuine, it is woven into the language.

Sometimes I wonder, though, how it would feel to blend into my surroundings—to not stand out like a foreigner.

Can a garment of cloth really help build a bridge? What will it say to native eyes?

The kurta shop has walls and walls of colored cloth. Choices upon choices. We sift through a rainbow of excitement to find our new identity—it will be ready on Thursday.

It is a normal Friday morning in Nepal. I wonder what people are thinking as we walk down the puddled streets adorned in our native clothes.  More eyes follow us than before—but I do not feel uncomfortable; I feel surrounded by an innocent curiosity to understand what brought this clothing to our pale skin. In this moment, I feel beautiful. 

Arriving

The Himalaya poked through miles of bright white clouds as we flew into Kathmandu.  Brilliantly colored houses stretched out their arms to welcome us. Warm brass tones of prayer bells rang.

The streets are filled with the smell of rustic incense.  Spices dance in my mouth as I eat my first meal of dal bhat. The sweet taste of fresh-squeezed lemonade quenches my thirst.  I embrace the sustenance of my new home.